


Soup Kitchen

by petersnotkingyet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Absent Parents, High School AU, John Winchester is an ass, Sam's a cutie patootie, Weechesters, absent!John, hurt!Dean, teenage!Dean, whump!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:39:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1856736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersnotkingyet/pseuds/petersnotkingyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak hated Dean Winchester, but then things got complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soup Kitchen

Castiel Novak hated Dean Winchester.

Dean was a freshman, a year and a half younger than Castiel. Under normal circumstances, they probably never would have been forced to interact. Castiel took home economics for an elective because he, unlike most sixteen year olds, actually enjoyed it. Dean had moved and joined the school in November. All the other electives had been full and no matter how much convincing Dean tried to do, he was stuck in home ec. Unfortunately for Castiel, he had been without a partner because most kids don’t want to work with the only guy who wasn’t suckered into home ec by his girlfriend.

So when Dean joined the class, the obvious solution was to make them partners. The only problem was that the two boys couldn’t stand each other.  
In Castiel’s opinion, Dean was a cocky little brat. He was irresponsible and would never bring the supplies he was in charge of bringing for projects. Dean was small for fourteen, only coming up to Castiel’s shoulder. It would seem that would make the older boy not see him as a worthy adversary, but Dean’s swagger made him seem ten feet tall rather than five.

Another irritating thing about the Winchester boy was that he was a thief. No one but Castiel noticed, but Dean was always sticking ingredients from their cooking projects into the pockets of that oversized leather jacket he wore. If the sophomore ever called him out on it, Dean would just pop the collar of his jacket, crack a grin, and deny it. There was no point in even telling the teacher. After all, who would ever believe that little freckle-faced Dean Winchester with his messy blond hair and easy grins could ever steal?  Even if he proved it, Castiel was sure nothing would ever come of it.  So when Dean stopped coming to school, Castiel paid no mind to it. Dean was just the type of kid who would ditch school, and it was easier to work without a partner than to put up with Dean.

On the Saturday three days after Dean stopped coming to school, Castiel and his brothers were going to the soup kitchen where their father made them volunteer twice a month. Mr. Novak was a preacher and constantly ranted on the importance of his sons keeping a good social image. Unlike his older brother Gabriel, Castiel was good at this. His grades were more than satisfactory, his behavior was stellar, and his manners were impeccable.  Weekends at the soup kitchen didn't bother him in the slightest.

Castiel was ladling out bowls of watery chicken noodle soup when he spotted Dean, although the fourteen year old looked a lot different than he had last time Castiel had laid eyes on him. He was in a wheelchair, his right leg was cast from thigh to toes, and his left arm was in a sling. His good arm was lightly wrapped around his ribs and the ridges in his shirt were enough for Castiel to be able to tell that he was in some kind of brace. His left eye was swollen almost shut and black and his bottom lip was split and swollen. A cut across his right cheek had been closed with a line of dark stitches. The wheelchair was being pushed by a brown haired boy who looked about ten years old.

As Castiel handed over the two bowls of soup to the younger boy who set them in Dean’s lap for him to balance as he found them a place for them to sit, Castiel was struck by the look on Dean’s face. It wasn’t an uncommon look; he had seen it many times volunteering here. It was the look on the face of a parent as they accepted that they couldn’t provide for their family. It was ashamed and humiliated and helpless. It was sad enough to see that look on an adult, but this was a boy. This was teenager younger than Castiel was, but his face had a burning look of miserable ignominy that Castiel had never before seen on a man younger than thirty.

Once everyone had been served, the volunteers were always encouraged to talk to the people they were serving. Castiel beelined for where Dean was sitting with the smaller boy who had been pushing the wheelchair. They had scooted one of the chairs away so Dean could lock the breaks on his wheelchair and eat at the table more easily.

“What happened to you?” was the first thing that comes tumbling out of Castiel’s mouth when he sat down. Dean glared at him and the older boy flinched at the look.

“Who are you?” the younger boy who'd pushed the wheelchair inquired, squinting at the older boy in scrutiny.

“Sammy, this is Cas,” Dean answered for him. “He goes to school with me. Cas,” for once, Castiel doesn’t bother correcting him about the detested nickname, “this is my younger brother Sam.”

“I’m ten,” Sam informs Castiel. “I’m in the fifth grade.”

“Well, Sam,” Castiel says, “sometimes there are some extra rolls in the back room. If you go tell that lady up there that I sent you, I bet you could get one.” Sam looked excited, but glanced at Dean first. The older boy gave a slight nod, and Sam scurried towards the woman Castiel had directed him towards.

“I know you told Sam that so we could talk without him around,” Dean stated as soon as Sam was out of hearing range.

“I just want to know what happened to you,” the older boy pleaded.  "You stopped coming to school." Dean sighed heavily, a sound much too old and tired for such a small boy. He swore Castiel to secrecy in such a way that had the older boy genuinely fearing harm before beginning the story.

“My dad—he isn’t around a lot” Dean said hesitantly. “He’s been gone for a while, and Sam and I needed money. Most of our meals were stuff I stole from home ec, but that wasn’t… enough. I had to start hustling pool at this crappy bar that kept letting me in for some reason. I had hustled these two guys a few nights before and they saw me doing it to some other sucker.”

“And?” Castiel prompted.

“What do you think happened, man?” Dean laughed then winced as the motion tore the scab on his lip.  He licked away the blood before continuing. “They followed me into the alley and beat the shit out of me. My face is messed up, a couple of my ribs are cracked, my collarbone’s broken, and my femur is shattered to hell. I’m stuck in this chair because I can’t use crutches like this.”

Sam returned to the table with a roll in each hand. He handed one to his older brother before he climbed back into his seat. “Castiel!” the woman in charge of the kitchen yelled. “We need your help back here!”

Saying an awkward goodbye to Dean, the older teen hurried back into the kitchen. On Monday, Dean was back at school. Girls were ruffling his spiky hair and using sharpies to scrawl their name on his cast while Dean told them about sleepwalking and falling down the stairs. If Dean wondered how Castiel had managed to put an envelope containing nothing except a wad of cash into the younger boy’s locker, he never asked.


End file.
